You Knew
by tpel
Summary: I'm playing around with the idea that the Lorca we've met is actually from a Mirror universe. This is a brief vignette, told from Cornwell's point of view, which takes place after the "original" Lorca returns to the Prime universe.


Over the course of their thirty-year friendship, Katrina Cornwell had seen Gabriel Lorca lose his composure several times. But she could count on one hand the number of times he didn't regain it almost instantly. This was one of those times.

It was four days since his return from the mirror universe. They saw each other soon after his arrival, as he was whisked away for a marathon debriefing session with Starfleet Intelligence. On that occasion, both of them remained stoic. It was easier that way.

But now he was here, eight feet away from her, having just entered her quarters at starbase. She closed the distance between them by half. There were so many things to say, but as tears welled in her eyes, the only thing she could think of was, "I missed you."

He tried to speak, failed, and tried again, finally grinding out, " _You knew_."

It was hard to see her favorite silver-tongued devil struggling for words. Suddenly, her arms were around him, pulling him toward her, moved by equal parts protectiveness and need.

"Terral told me," he managed, voice rough, "You knew it wasn't me. Only you."

In truth, she had worried that maybe she was losing her objectivity, or even her mind. She'd been certain that the Gabriel Lorca she had interacted with over the last few months wasn't the man whom she'd known since their first drunken hook-up when they were green cadets. But how could that be? It didn't make any sense. PTSD was a far more logical explanation. War, torture, constant stress, these things can radically change a person. Yet she knew in her bones that this wasn't the whole story—that the Lorca she'd seen recently wasn't just a changed man, he was a different man. A stranger, wearing the face and mannerisms of a friend.

She squeezed him tighter, one hand stroking the short, soft hair at the back of his neck. He'd lost weight. So had she. Her time as a guest of the Klingon Empire explained her condition, one which her doctors were working to (and nagging her to) rectify. God only knows what he'd been through—eight months in a parallel universe where humans were at least as bad as Klingons. From what she'd read of the last incursion between these universes, it was a world of constant scheming and danger, of ubiquitous torture and assassination. Much as she hated Gabriel's mirror counterpart for coming here and fooling everyone, it was impressive how well he'd succeeded in this world. And apparently, her Gabriel had done pretty well on the other side, too. He had survived at any rate, and found a way to get himself, along with most of the crew of the Buran and Discovery, home.

She could learn more, of course, could even access reports from his debriefing. She chose not to. He would tell her when he was ready.

Gabriel leaned back enough to kiss her on her forehead. Their eyes met, both a bit blurry. Kat grinned and said, "This is going to sound very southern, but I don't know whether I want to jump you or sit you down and make you eat dinner."

She was rewarded with a low chuckle. "Think maybe we can find time for both?"

XXXXX

Of course, they ended up in bed together. That was just what they did when they needed comforting, or there was something to celebrate, or it had been a while. Or all of the above. At first, he was too urgent and she was too careful, but then they settled in and enjoyed themselves. And it was unquestionably, undeniably _him_ , which flooded her with a relief as powerful as her release.

They fell asleep afterwards. Kat woke up to find her head still propped on Gabriel's arm, though his face was now tilted away from her. She noticed that he was moving in his sleep—perhaps that was what woke her. His breathing was rapid and he jerked a little, as if trying to shake something off him.

"Gabriel. Wake up, hon." She pushed herself up a bit, gripping his shoulder. That didn't rouse him, so she brought her other hand to the side of his face, turning it toward her. "It's okay . . . just a dream."

His eyes snapped open and he exploded into motion, simultaneously flinging her away and scooting himself backwards. Both of them nearly tumbled off opposite sides of the bed, though he caught himself on the wall and she managed to get a foot under her so she slid off rather than falling headlong.

Now more or less awake, Gabriel looked shocked and chagrined. "Kat. I'm sorry Kat. Are you OK?"

He reached out a hand to help pull her up from where she'd fallen. She took it, shaking her head ruefully, startled, but also a little amused.

"It's been a while since I've shared a bed with anybody," he explained, as she tucked her legs back under the blanket.

Kat froze, then laughed with what she feared might be a tinge of hysteria. "Oh my God, that's exactly what _he_ said! I swear, the both of you are menaces in the sack."

Gabriel looked completely baffled. So she explained, "Yeah, you just tossed me off the bed. But your double grabbed me by the throat and shoved a phaser in my face."

"Wait . . . what?" he said. She looked at him pointedly, giving him a minute to catch up.

"You . . . you _slept_ with him . . . with the other me?" His tone suggested that he was a bit freaked out by this. Katrina found it cute.

She shrugged: _yeah, apparently I did_. "So, _that's_ what you're going to take away from this, not the fact that he could've killed me?"

Guilt and pain flitted across his eyes, before he registered her teasing tone and shot back, "Hey, I ain't never had anyone step out on me with myself before."

She tapped her chin in mock thoughtfulness, pulling the covers up over both of them, "You know, when someone in a non-exclusive relationship starts getting huffy about his partner's dalliances, it usually indicates some kind of insecurity or feelings of inadequacy."

That made him laugh, as he slid himself in closer to her. 'Lorca' and 'insecure' might as well have been antonyms in the dictionary. He gently traced the side of her face with a finger. "Do tell, _doctor_."

"Of course, it shows a rare level of ego when the only one you worry you might compare badly with is yourself."

"Not worried, darlin'," he purred, moving his finger to meander down her sternum, raising goosebumps in its path, "Not worried at all."

For the first time in a long time, neither was she.


End file.
